


The Drowning of Elliott Witt

by OhThatsViolet



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of events in my other fic miroctane moments, Repaying Debt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhThatsViolet/pseuds/OhThatsViolet
Summary: Dating one of the richest people in the Outlands comes with certain perks, but also certain pressures. Elliott finds himself in serious debt, but wants to keep his financial situation a secret from his partner in an attempt to protect him from the darker side of Solace City. Can he keep his head above water, while trying to keep his secret - or will he drown?
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 25
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure you've read the tags before continuing! 
> 
> Find me on Twitter & Tumblr: ohthatsviolet

A whimper escaped his lips, as he looked down at the tips of his fingers that were stained red. He placed the small blade to the side, leaving it on the pile of letters scattered around his desk, that were covered in red markings; a similar shade to the blood on his hands. Elliott inhaled shakily, not wanting to look at the fresh cuts along his lower stomach. It made him feel queasy to think about. All that progress he'd made over the last few months was gone, all for the sake of a few seconds of relief and distraction. He'd really fucked up this time. He was broke financially and now he'd broken himself mentally again. Elliott sniffled a few times, not wanting to allow the tears to fall from his eyes. What was he going to do? How had he managed to let things get this bad? He owed money to people, which was now very evident from all the overdue letters covering the beaten up wooden surface of his desk. All of their names seemed to blur together now, but it was different breweries and suppliers and if Elliott had learned anything from living in Solace City, it was making sure you always paid your debts, or you'd be paid a visit by some hired merc.   
_Shit._  
He ran a trembling hand through his curls, pausing when he remembered the blood. He forced himself to look down to inspect his wounds, deciding to just pull his shirt down and try to ignore it, for now. He was wearing black today, so hopefully no one would notice if it soaked through. He didn't want to go home. Part of him knew this situation was coming and he'd chosen to try and ignore it but he couldn't do that anymore. How was he supposed to go back to his apartment and face Octavio, and pretend everything was okay? He didn't want to drag him into this mess. They were so happy; newly engaged, planning their future together, they were both doing well in the games. They were happy, and he couldn't ruin that. Though, the thought tempted him. Octavio had money and could easily get more if he needed. He would never deny him, and could practically snap his fingers and all of Elliott's problems would be gone. But something inside him wouldn't let him consider taking that option. He was sick of being the family screw up; the one who was too young to go war, the one who was out partying the night his mom got the call about his first brother's disappearance, the one who was away living his dream while his mom was sick at home. He knew what people said about him, but they needed the money if she had any chance of getting better. But now that money was gone. He'd let everyone down again; his mom, his staff, Octavio. He'd fucked up, and he hadn't the slightest idea of where to begin to fix it. 

Elliott reached downwards, opening one of the lower drawers in his desk. His fingers curled around the cool glass neck of a bottle of whiskey he kept there. It was usually only reached for when he needed something to help him calm down after a game, before going on his shift. But, if he ever needed something to calm his nerves, it was now. He unscrewed the cap, and collected a nearby glass, taking a moment to wonder if it was clean or not before deciding it probably didn't matter at this point. Elliott drank in long gulps, barely giving the alcohol time to burn his throat. He was there for some time before his vision began to blur, but he soon realised it was due to the tears beginning to well in his eyes and not his drinking. His stomach was starting to hurt more now, the initial adrenaline of the situation having worn off. So, he drank some more and continued to do so until he heard a loud knock on his office door, making him jump. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he assumed it had been a while from the amount missing from his bottle.   
"It's almost closing time," Wraith informed him, as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "What are you still doing here?"   
"I do own the place," the trickster replied, a hint of sarcasm and annoyance in his tone. "I can stay here forever if I want to. What are _you_ still doing here?"   
"I haven't really got anywhere better to be," she said, moving to sit down on the edge of his desk.   
She looked like she was about to say something else but paused, her icy eyes falling on the collection of opened letters. She picked one up, and Elliott could see her scanning the contents before he had time to stop her.   
"Hey!" he yelled, trying to snatch the letter back. "That's confi-con...That's private!"   
She hopped down from her spot as he lunged at her, but he already knew she'd seen enough.   
"Elliott...what the hell is this?"   
"It's none of your business!"   
Wraith handed the piece of paper back to him, folding her arms and looking him up and down.   
"Are you in some sort of trouble?"   
"No," he huffed, sliding a frustrated hand through his hair as he slumped back against his desk. "...Yes."   
Over the next few minutes, he let it all spill out. He told her about the financial situation he'd found himself in, while keeping his slip back into self-harming out of the story; no one needed to know about that. Wraith nodded as she listened, and never interrupted him while he talked. He was surprised he got through the whole thing without tearing up again. At least he had one thing he could be proud of.   
"So...yeah. That's it."   
"I see," the skirmisher said quietly. "Have you told anyone else about this?"   
"Like...who?"   
"Your fiancé?"   
"No!" he replied, sounding much more desperate than he intended to. "I...no. Not yet. But I will! I swear! Please don't tell him."   
"Alright," Wraith said, sounding suspicious but didn't press the matter further. "How are you going to get yourself out of this mess? Octavio will help you, right?"   
"Um…," Elliott began, his eyes falling to the floor. "I don't...want to ask him for money."   
Wraith raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't say anything more about it.   
"Okay."   
"I'll just...work harder. Win some games. It'll be fine. It'll work out," the trickster told her with a smile, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. "I've gotten out of worse situations."

Wraith left him alone after that, and he decided he should at least lock the bar up to protect whatever means of income he had left. He hit his knee on one of the barstools as he passed by, but that didn't stop him from having another drink for the road. He made it a shot of vodka this time, remembering the importance of having a balanced diet. He felt a lot worse as soon as he stepped outside and the air hit him, making him feel nauseous and dizzy for a second. Luckily, it was a weekday so the streets of Solace were fairly quiet, leaving him to stumble home in peace. It might also have had something to do with it being close to 3AM, but that wasn't a connection he could make in his current state. The door to their apartment was left unlocked when he finally arrived home, something he would usually scold Octavio for, but his mind was far too clouded to care. The door to their bedroom was left slightly ajar too, and it was only then he realised all the lights were on. Elliott was concerned for a moment, before he pushed the bedroom door open and found Octavio propped up on some pillows, with his tablet set in his lap with the scenes of some film he didn't recognise flashing on the screen. The runner didn't greet him when he entered, and it took him a few drunken moments to realise he was sound asleep, and then it hit him; Octavio had been waiting for him to come home. It made him feel horribly guilty, and only added to the bad feelings he'd been feeling all day. As carefully as he could, he took the tablet away and set it to the side. He attempted to move the speedster into a more comfortable position to sleep, but fumbled slightly causing his eyelids to flicker but he didn't wake up. Elliott placed a wet kiss to his forehead and pulled the blankets over him before collapsing onto his own side of the bed, fully clothed. He glanced over at Octavio's sleeping face and a second wave of guilt hit him; he looked so calm, like he didn't have a care in the world. How could he tell of him the mess he'd gotten himself into and ruin the peace Octavio had finally found? Elliott scooted himself closer, suddenly desperate for some comfort. He wrapped an arm around the speedster's slim frame, pulling him close and burying his nose in his hair, letting out a small grunt of pain when Octavio's arm accidentally brushed against his stomach. He allowed himself to inhale his partner's scent and shed a silent tear, before falling into a restless sleep. 

The following days seemed to blur together and seemed to trail on forever. He felt like he was constantly looking over his shoulder for any signs that people might know what was going on. Would Wraith tell anyone? If she were to tell anyone, she'd tell Natalie who'd tell Octavio, who'd tell him off for not telling him in the first place. He remembers one day the runner came over to hug him unexpectedly and he bristled. He still remembers the look on Octavio's face. He was obviously hurt by his reaction, and if he'd looked so disappointed over something so trivial, how would he react to finding out he'd blown a majority of his savings? Something he _didn't_ remember, was who called the meeting in his bar this night and what the purpose of it was. There was some new girl on the scene. He remembers someone mentioning she'd fallen on hard times, and she'd shown up to Solace with what little gear she had left with the intent of competing. She had one of those special cards, he'd been told, which did interest him. Some of her wares she'd brought in a large case also interested him, along with some of the other Legends but it didn't matter; it's not like he could afford any of them anyway. He tried to keep up his mask and act like everything was normal. He tried to make the new girl laugh, but she had a sharp tongue too and just made him look like an idiot in front of everyone. Octavio had told him he was going to grab something to eat with Ajay, Anita and Makoa and asked if he wanted to join. Elliott considered the invitation, but decided it would be better if he didn't. The runner persisted, almost begging him to come but luckily Wraith turned up at the right moment and gave him an escape route, saying she wanted to talk to him. Octavio had rolled his eyes at her, but kissed him on the cheek before he left. In a way, it was lucky the speedster had something to occupy himself with, so he wouldn't overhear this conversation. Apparently, Wraith had taken it upon herself to offer his backroom to the new girl and no matter how much he protested about it, he couldn't change their minds. It felt like his life was being taken out of his hands more than it already was. At least she said she would pay rent. 

All of this had led him to his current situation. He was sat at his bar, with a glass of the cheapest spirit he stocked in hand. It tasted pretty awful. The only reason he still stocked it was to keep drunken mercs happy when they started to run out of cash near the end of the night. Almost an hour had passed since closing time, so it was unusual for him to still be here, these days; now that he actually had someone to go home to. But here he was, alone and drinking his own booze which he was trying to convince himself was fine since he didn’t have to pay for it; for now anyway. Ramya must have spotted him from the entrance to the workshop she’d made out of his backroom, because she made her way into the lounge, despite looking very ready to turn in for the night.   
“Need some company, Witt?”  
Elliott shrugged and lifted his glass to his lips. He probably would have left already if he’d noticed her earlier. He’d grown quite fond of her over the few weeks she’d been here. She was almost like the annoying little sister he never had. But something he’d quickly learned was, despite her carefree nature, Ramya was actually incredibly nosey. Octavio shared a similar quality, but he had a nose for mindless gossip, where Ramya was more interested in the uncomfortable, personal things. She said it was a marketing tactic; if she knew what your problem was, she could sell you something to solve it. It was clever in a way, but Elliott doubted her methods would solve the mess he had found himself in. Not unless he found the nerve to put a bullet between his own two eyes, which wasn't something he was considering doing right now. However, the more he thought about it, the more he decided there was no harm in keeping his options open, for now. 

“Oi, you lose your hearing or something?” the modder said, as she pulled up a stool next to him. “I’m talkin’ to you.”  
Elliott straightened his posture slightly and drained the remains of his glass.   
“I heard you, but I’m not looking for a drinking buddy right now,” he told her, sliding out of his seat. “I was just about to leave. Can’t leave Tav waiting up again. See ya.”  
He’d barely made it a step away, before Ramya was calling after him.   
“Elliott, wait. Could ya just...hang on a second? I need to...I think we should have a chat.”  
The trickster turned to face her, rubbing some tired fingers across his forehead.   
“If this is about you moving stuff into the stockroom again, the answer is no. I need space for-.”  
“Nah, it’s not that. I’ll fight ya for that some other time,” she interjected with a small laugh, patting the bartop with one hand. “Here. Have a drink with me.”  
The trickster hauled himself back to his original seat with a sigh, watching as his companion poured them both a few fingers of the bottle he’d left behind. Ramya took a long gulp of her drink before letting out a sigh of her own.   
“I was never any good at this crap,” she began quietly, idly twirling her glass in circles. “We spend a lot of time together these days, don’t we?”   
The question caught Elliott off guard at first, but he nodded; the statement was fairly true.   
“Yeah, I guess we do.”  
“And that makes us friends, right?” she continued. “I mean, I know I slag ya sometimes and you’ve pissed me off at times and all but...I’d still say we have a pretty alright bond.”   
Elliott bit down on his lip. Were they seriously having this conversation right now?  
“Listen, Rams,” he began softly, deciding it was probably best to nip whatever this was in the bud, right away. “I think you’re super cool and it’s been fun having you around but...Well, you know like...I’m engaged and stuff…”.   
The modder almost choked on her beverage, dribbling some down her chin as she began to speak.   
“What? Bloody hell, Witt. That’s not where I was going with this at all! Don’t flatter yourself so hard. Ya might bruise.”   
“Oh, thank goodness,” Elliott breathed, placing a relieved hand over his chest. “You could have started it some other way! I thought we were going on a one way trip to awkward-ville!”  
Ramya chuckled and refilled her glass.   
“So…,” the trickster began cautiously. “If not that then...What _do_ you want to talk about?” 

The modder picked at the skin on her lips, trying to think of the best way to begin again.   
“Look, mate. You know I’m not in the habit of bullshittin’ so I’m just gonna come out and say it. Remember before I moved my stuff in here? And I accidentally kicked your ass?”  
“Yes,” Elliott groaned. “You bring it up whenever you can.”  
“I’m bringing it up for a different reason now. You were a bit out of it when I was trying to drag you back here, Witt. But I felt bad, so I said I’d fix ya up. You were bleeding a bit through your clothes and that…”.  
“I know all this,” he interrupted, somewhat impatiently. “I was there.”  
“Well, it just looked like to me that...you were already beat up before that day,” Ramya continued, running her hand over her stomach in a way that made the trickster’s blood run cold. “I thought maybe I disturbed some old wounds when I hit ya so I bandaged ya up. I didn’t think much of it at the time. It wasn’t my business.”  
“It’s still not your business.”  
“Are you okay, Elliott?” she suddenly blurted out. “Do...Who...What’s going on there?”  
“Nothing! I already told you it’s none of your business!” Elliott spat, much more defensively than he intended to.   
He forced himself to take a breath and soften his tone before continuing.   
“It’s not...whatever you think it is, alright? We...we get fucked up in the games all the time! You know that.”   
Ramya nodded slowly, looking down at a stain on the bar.   
“I’m just saying...If you need help, there’s no shame in asking. I get it. Life is shit sometimes. I’d still be out on my backside, if I didn’t take the help given to me, Witt.”  
“Everything’s fine,” he replied firmly, sliding out of his seat. “You wanna help? Pay your rent. Now, I seriously need to go. Don’t leave the lights on out here, when you hit the hay." 

The trickster took a detour into a nearby alleyway when he left the bar, slumping back against the cold brick wall. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, thinking back on the conversation he and Ramya had just had. Was he really that easy to figure out that everyone was already onto him? Had Wraith said something? He shut his eyes, his mind going a mile a minute, flooded with different possible scenarios. He needed to think. Next time he saw Ramya, he’d think of something funny or witty to say that would throw her off the trail. And he’d have to try and figure out if Wraith had ratted him out, without being too obvious. His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his whirlwind of thoughts. Elliott unlocked the device to see a message from Octavio, wondering where he was. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself before typing out a quick text to say he’d be home soon. Wraith and Ramya he would have to deal with later. For now, he had more important people to worry about. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliott's growing tired of lying, and finds himself conflicted between his options. When he receives an unexpected phone call he realises he needs to make some quick decisions - some to be proud of and some not.

"I'm still sad, friend."  
Elliott's eyes drifted away from the piece of loose skin he was picking at around his thumb, to the MVRN who was standing behind his bar, wiping it down. He let out a long sigh before turning his attention back to defiling his finger nails.   
"Me too, buddy."   
"I thought she loved me."   
"Yeah, well...sometimes love is complicated," the trickster told him, half-heartedly. "Plus, this is Ash we're talking about here. It didn't help the person you decided you wanted to be your girlfriend, was someone you pulled out of a dumpster. Oh, and also she had a giant sword she could have murdered us all with."   
A prominent sad face came to rest on Pathfinder's screen.   
"I still liked her."   
"Let's talk about something else," Elliott suggested, absentmindedly drumming his hands on the bartop. "Did...anyone... _unusual_ stop by here before I came in?"   
"I don't remember seeing anyone," Pathfinder replied, his expression changing to an excited exclamation point. "But I did find this letter when I opened the bar!"   
"You did?!" the trickster asked, the panic evident in his tone, as he watched the MVRN pull an envelope from a nearby shelf.   
"Give me that!" he continued, snatching it from Pathfinder's grasp. "Dammit, Path! Why didn't you say something as soon as I got here?!"   
"Because you said you hate mail, friend. And I didn't want to make you more sad."   
"I never said that!"   
"You said it last night before you went home!" Pathfinder insisted. "I would never lie to you! You're my best friend!"   
Last night? Oh, yeah. He was drunk.   
"I'm...gonna go into my office," the trickster muttered, sliding out of his stool and tucking the envelope under his arm. "Don't let anyone bother me." 

He pressed his back up against the office door when it clicked shut behind him, letting out a long exhale before turning his attention back to the envelope in his hands.   
“Fuck...Better to just...rip it off like a bandaid, right?”   
Elliott hastily tore the seal open and pulled out the piece of paper inside, seeing it was from one of the suppliers he used for the bar. He scanned the contents quickly. The words they used were not very friendly but the message was clear; he owed them 5,000 credits. He didn’t believe it at first. He couldn’t possibly have let it slip that bad. But upon doing some searching through the stack of late notices from other people he owed money to, he found that it was actually _that_ bad.   
“Shit,” he whispered to himself, taking a moment to rest his head in his hands, in an attempt to quell his racing thoughts. “R-right. Okay. This is fine. Everything’s fine.”   
He chewed on his nails, thinking over his options. More than likely, he’d have to clear out the majority of the bar’s safe and accounts, leaving just enough for him to pay his staff's paychecks. He’d have to push Ramya for rent again, and use that too. He didn’t really have anything else he could sell that wouldn’t be missed. He just needed something. Something big. 

The fear of whatever might happen to him if he wasn’t able to pay up, was enough of a motivator for the next game. Elliott was mad. Seething even; at himself, the world and just life in general. He ditched his squadmates as soon as they landed, and tore across the arena with only his trusty Wingman and his decoys for backup. He hadn’t done it intentionally, but he was itching for a way to release all this built up tension and anxiety he’d been holding. Somehow, his unplanned tactic worked. He just started running, and anyone who crossed his path ended up on the wrong side of his gun. He had barely registered what he was doing, until his team eventually caught up with him just in time to move into one of the final rings. It was only then, he realised he’d only had his pistol the whole time. The sound of a care package landing nearby sounded like an angel’s song, which he followed. His eyes lit up, after being blessed with a R-99 which caused him to smile genuinely for the first time all week; partially because he knew how powerful it could be, but also because he couldn’t help but be reminded of Octavio. Holding his partner’s favourite weapon in his hands almost felt like a sign that he graciously accepted. He looked up to the sky, upon hearing the announcer declare the ring was beginning to move. He loaded his weapon as he took off running towards the final two squads, who could be heard fighting in the distance.   
“This one’s for us, babe.” 

His eighteen kill win was the talk of the city, for the days that followed. It was talked about on the TV on various chat shows, and splattered across every news and gossip site. He’d gotten a nice tip from one of his sponsors along with his winner’s cheque, but somehow it still wasn’t enough to pay back what he owed to his suppliers. He knew there was another repayment coming for the Mirage Voyage soon, but he’d have to push that to the back of his mind for now. He’d gotten roped into drinks at his bar to celebrate his achievement by some of the other Legends, which seemed like a good idea; the more people that stopped by his bar, the more people who would spend their hard earned cash there. It seemed like a win-win situation, until he remembered that usually he would offer every attendee at least one drink on the house, at these types of celebrations. Elliott wished the ground would have opened up and swallowed him whole, as soon as he stepped into the Paradise Lounge that night and saw the massive crowd of people that were waiting to wish him well. The sound of their cheering was almost deafening as he made his way through them and towards the bar, with a fake smile plastered on his face. Someone clapped him on the back as he passed, telling him they’d won a 150 credits bet today because of him and Elliott made a mental note to consider betting on himself next time. He climbed on top of the bar to address the crowd, like he usually would at these types of events, thanking them for their support while he lived his dream and all of the other things they probably wanted to hear him say. The crowd clapped and cheered when he was done, and he thought he might get away without making the free drinks announcement, until someone yelled something about it from the back of the crowd and he caved, muttering to his bar staff to take names and make sure everyone only got one. 

Elliott retired to his office after that, taking the opportunity to tally up how much money he had while everyone else was distracted. Between dipping into the bar’s accounts, his own personal funds, what he’d earned from today’s game, while allocating enough to cover what this celebration was going to cost him, he estimated he was still short about 1,500 credits. He slumped heavily back into his desk chair with a sigh; he was quickly running out of options.   
“Not enjoying the party, amor?”   
The trickster jumped in his seat, having not heard the door open. He relaxed slightly, when he saw it was just Octavio standing there.   
“I just...needed a minute away,” Elliott told him, which wasn’t a lie. “Long day, y’know?”  
“You can say that again,” the runner replied, with a small laugh, making his way towards him. “You were awesome out there today! I just wish I didn’t have to watch the whole thing from respawn.”   
The trickster held out a hand to the younger Legend, as a silent invitation for him to come and sit in his lap. He pulled him close, absorbing some of the speedster’s warmth into his skin which provided him with some comfort. Octavio’s hand trailed down his chest, coming to rest against his stomach. Elliott let out a small hiss in discomfort, when the runner hit against a particularly sensitive spot that was still in the process of healing.   
“You okay?”  
“Y-yeah,” the trickster nodded, almost too enthusiastically. “Just uh...took a bit of a blow around there today. It’s a little tender, that’s all.”  
“Oh, let me see,” Octavio said, his fingers moving to lift his partner’s shirt up, until he was stopped by a firm hold on his wrist.   
“There’s nothing to see, babe.”  
“Maybe Ajay can-.”  
“There’s nothing to see, Octavio. It’s not even fucking bruised. Knock it off.”  
“Fine,” the runner replied, pulling his hand away. “Jeez. Relax.” 

Elliott let his head fall back against his chair, bringing his fingers up to rub against his temple. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. All he wanted to do was save Octavio from getting involved in his mess. He was just trying to protect him from possible harm, and from finding out the guy he was supposed to marry was just some deadbeat. He wasn’t old enough to look after his brothers, he wasn’t wealthy enough to look after his mom properly, and he wasn’t smart enough to even look after himself. He could feel everything beginning to crumble around him and he couldn’t blame anyone or anything for it but himself. He felt like he was trapped, and the space he had to freely move around was becoming smaller and smaller by the second. It didn’t matter anymore if he opened his mouth or kept it shut because either way, he was going to drown. As far as he could see he had two options; desperately keep paddling on his own and hope he could keep his head above water, or swim for the life raft that was Octavio, and risk that he, and the weight of burdens would sink his lover and pull him down with him.   
“Tav, I...I need to tell you...something.”  
The speedster looked him directly in the eyes, and Elliott really wished he hadn't done that.   
He averted his gaze to Octavio’s hand, taking it in his own. He looked at the engagement ring on his finger, noticing how it didn’t look anywhere near as lavish or shiny as the one Octavio had given to him. Reality came crashing down on him; he didn’t deserve someone young and successful like Octavio. Elliott remembers being his age. All he wanted to do was go out with his friends partying. He was working a bartending job that barely paid his rent, living in a shitty apartment with nothing going for him. Yet, here was Octavio, being able to conquer the Apex scene, with sponsors practically begging to work with him and with his own successful online empire and merch line on the side. The speedster often told him, he was the best thing that ever happened to him and that he helped him pull his act together and be a better person, but Elliott was beginning to doubt that very much.   
“What is it?” Octavio asked. “Is something wrong?”  
The trickster could feel himself beginning to clam up and he was beginning to wish he’d never opened his big mouth at all. Octavio gave his hand a firm squeeze, and he had to force himself to not break down then and there.   
“I just...I’m...just really...in love with you, Tav.”   
The speedster smiled brightly, giving him a playful nudge to the side which made him wince again.   
“That’s it? By the way you were looking I thought you were going to tell me something awful!” he laughed quietly. “But I love you too. Even if you are _super_ moody sometimes.”   
Elliott forced himself to laugh at the statement, despite the anxious ache in his chest; he could already feel himself beginning to slip under and drown. 

* * *

“How about we go out somewhere tonight?”   
The trickster glanced away from his coffee that was now gone cold, towards his partner who was perched on the edge of the breakfast bar, looking at him expectantly.   
“Huh?”  
“We should go out,” Octavio repeated. “For dinner or something. I’m in the mood for ramen!”   
“Oh, I don’t know, babe,” Elliott replied, averting his eyes back to his coffee that was looking a lot less appetising by the second. “I have work and stuff and I…”.   
_Am broke._  
“Come on. Just get someone to cover for you. You’re the boss,” the runner persisted, his tone whiney as he hopped down from the counter. “We haven’t done anything in forever! And we should celebrate your big win together! Weren’t you the one that said just because we’re engaged now, doesn’t mean date nights stop?”   
“I know, I know,” Elliott sighed. “It’s just well...I’m busy, y’know?”   
The speedster folded his arms and pouted, looking less than impressed.   
“Too busy for me? Fine. I see how it is.”   
“Tav, no. Come on, that’s not what I meant.”   
“Then let’s just go,” Octavio said, moving to wrap his arms around his torso as he looked up at him with big hazel eyes. “And hey, if you wanna be cheap about it, it’ll be my treat. How about that?”   
The trickster bristled under his touch, at the statement.   
_Did someone tell him? You should have said something when you had the chance, dumbass._  
“Wh-what are you talking about?”  
“It...was a joke, Elliott,” the runner said, taking a tentative step backwards. “Chill.”  
 _Of course it was a joke. Idiot._  
“Okay...uh...we’ll go. S-sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”  
“Is everything alright, amor?” Octavio suddenly asked; the question caused Elliott’s mouth to go dry. “You haven’t...You’ve been kinda...off...lately.”   
“Y-yeah, baby. Everything’s...fine,” he replied, offering his lover a forced smile. “I’ve just been...kind of stressed lately. Actually, I...kinda needed to ask you...som-something.”  
“Okay,” Octavio nodded. “What’s up?”   
“Uhh...well, I need to...do some stuff for the bar and...it’s kind of eating into my last cheque, big time, so...Would you mind, like...covering our groceries this week? I...don’t think I can split it right now. I’m so sorry.”  
That wasn’t technically a lie, right?  
Octavio laughed quietly at his question, obviously amused.   
“Of course, I can. You don’t need to ask, dummy. Just take my card. I already told you we don’t have to split this stuff. I’ll pay.”   
“I just...like being able to pull my weight,” the trickster mumbled, his gaze drifting to the floor.   
“Is it cool if I don’t come this time?” Octavio asked, tossing his wallet towards him. “I need to do some filming and stuff.”  
“Yeah, uh sure,” Elliott replied, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll catch you later.” 

Elliott found himself wishing that Octavio had joined him, on his trip to the grocery store. He felt in a daze as he walked around the aisles, barely being able to remember what he'd come here for in the first place. He couldn't help but feel this sense of impending doom, like something awful was about to happen, but he tried to ignore it. He quickened his pace around the store, throwing whatever looked interesting into his cart, which he realised was a bad idea when he got to the checkout. Being alone meant he wasn't able to carry everything he'd picked up back home alone, and had to schedule it for delivery later that day. It was alright. Octavio wouldn't even notice if he spent a little extra. Elliott doesn't think the speedster ever really checked his bank balance. He'd understand and probably wouldn't even care. He smiled at the cashier as he typed Octavio's pin into the card machine, grateful he got it right on the first try and this situation wouldn't be made any more awkward. He put Octavio's card back into his wallet and shoved it into his pocket, and left the store as empty handed as he walked in. The street leading to The Strip seemed particularly busy today, and he wasn't feeling up to bumping into anyone who might care who he was, so he opted to take a side street into the quieter end of town, deciding the longer walk home might do him good. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the city which was mainly made up of a weird combination of oil, fumes and street food coming from the marketplace. But it was what he knew as home, and it was nice to stop and take a moment to take it all in, despite everything. 

The moment of tranquility didn't last long, the buzzing of his phone in his pocket startled him out of his thoughts. His mouth went dry when he looked at the caller ID; it was some number he didn't recognise. Elliott's fingers quivered as he answered the call. He already had a bad feeling about this.   
"H-hello?"   
"Elliott Witt?"   
He swallowed harshly.   
"Y-yes."   
"Dempsey's want their money."   
"I...I know."   
"You got it?"   
The trickster paused to look over his shoulder, lower his voice.   
"Not yet. They never….gave me like, a date or anything."   
"Well, they want it now."   
His stomach began to feel queasy.   
"I...uh, need m-more time."   
"Tough. Collection's tonight."   
"It...it...it can't be!"   
"It is what it is. See ya later."   
"W-wait!"   
He had to resist the urge to throw his phone at a nearby wall when he realised the call had been ended.   
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered to himself, quickening his pace into a light jog down the street.   
He made his way to the nearest ATM, and took out his wallet, shoving his card into the machine with fumbling fingers.   
"Come on. Come on."   
He withdrew everything he'd saved, but even with completely emptying his personal account he was still short.   
"Motherfucking-fuck-fuck," he muttered under his breath, hurriedly taking his cash and carelessly shoving it into his wallet, along with his card.   
He paused, before closing his wallet over, eyeing the jet black card inside that he'd almost completely forgotten he had. He bit down on his lip, as he took it out; Octavio's name spelled out in shiny silver lettering almost felt like it was trying to mock him. Slowly, he slid it into the machine and part of him wished he hadn't gotten the pin right this time.   
Octavio never checked his bank account.   
Octavio wouldn't even notice. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavio takes Elliott on a date but the trickster is preoccupied with his debt collector meeting. Octavio is beginning to get suspicious that his partner isn't telling him everything.

"This is so good," Octavio hummed contentedly, slurping his ramen into his mouth with a small, happy sigh. "Exactly what I was craving."   
Elliott poked at his food with his fork, his knee jittering uncontrollably under the table. He was a ball of nerves, ever since he’d gotten home from his grocery trip and it was only getting worse with each hour that passed. He didn’t know what time these guys were going to show up, which was only worrying him more. He wasn’t able to convince Octavio to postpone their dinner date so it was very possible he might miss their visit and that would only make his situation worse. He didn’t really feel like eating or being here at all. His wallet was tucked into his jeans pocket and was bulging with cash, making him paranoid whenever someone passed by their table and he would subtly run a hand over his pocket each time, to make sure it was still there.   
“How’s your food?” the runner asked, through a mouthful of noodles. “Good?”  
Elliott’s eyes casted down onto his bowl that was still full; it didn’t look very appetising to him right now.   
“Y-yeah, it’s fine. It’s good,” he replied, threading his spoon through the broth as if he intended on continuing to eat it.   
“I can teach you how to use chopsticks if you want,” Octavio suggested, clicking his wooden eating utensils together. “It’s actually pretty easy once you get the hang of it.”  
“I always forget you seem to know how to do everything cool,” the trickster responded, as he set his spoon down, his tone coming across a lot more bitterly than he intended.   
The speedster didn’t seem to notice his remark, leaning over the table to pluck a piece of pork from his bowl before offering it to the trickster’s lips.   
“Open up.”   
Elliott gingerly accepted the food, chewing it slowly. It tasted nice but it really wasn’t helping the queasiness of his stomach. 

“Man, Ell. I cannot stop thinking about your game the other day,” the runner said, dreamily. “I mean, that was like...the _most_ awesome thing I’ve seen!”   
“Y-yeah, I...don’t know what came over me.”   
“It was so damn hot. And then you whipped out that R-99? Ugh, _swoon_.”   
Elliott chuckled quietly at that, allowing his hand to be taken by his partner, only now noticing how clammy his palms felt.   
“S-sorry, babe. I’m a little sweaty,” he said, trying to laugh it off.   
Octavio didn’t seem to mind, his hazel eyes looking into his brown ones, holding nothing but adoration and a sincerity that shone through the dim lighting of the restaurant. Elliott’s heart skipped a beat as he looked back at him, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the nerves or because of the sheer amount of love he felt for the man sitting across the table from him.   
“Maybe now is, like...I don’t know. A weird time to bring this up, amor, but...I don’t think anything in my whole life ever made me as happy as you do,” Octavio spoke, following it with a small, awkward laugh before continuing, a light blush painted on his freckled cheeks. “I don’t wanna get super sappy about it but, I was super proud of you the other day. I was watching the whole thing like, ‘hell yeah, that’s my cariño out there!’, and well...you know.”   
“Wow, uh...thanks, babe. It...means a lot to hear you say that,” Elliott replied, his heart rate increasing though he was still unsure if it was due to panic or joy. “Tav...I-.”   
He startled when his phone chimed and could feel his breath hitch when he looked down and saw the text that read, “20 minutes”.   
“I...I...I have to go,” Elliott said suddenly, pushing his chair back to stand abruptly only to be stopped by his lover’s grasp on his sleeve.   
“Go where?” the speedster asked. “You can’t go! It’s date night! You haven't even finished your food!"  
“It’s a work thing. Sorry, I’ll make it up to you.”  
“You said you were gonna get someone to cover for you!”   
“Look, I’m sorry okay?! It’s not my fault,” the trickster told him, snatching his arm away. “Get off my fucking ass about it.” 

Luckily, the restaurant Octavio had picked was only around the corner from the Paradise Lounge so he had plenty of time to get there. There were only a few usual patrons scattered around the bar so he was able to politely convince them to leave, along with his bar staff who were restocking the shelves behind the counter.   
"Good news! Everyone gets the night off!" he announced, taking the knife one of them was using to open a cardboard box of snacks away from them, setting it down on the bartop. "I have a meeting. Gotta close up early."   
"Sure, sure," they quipped back. "We know what your meetings are usually about, boss. Another Legend party tonight?"   
"Oh, ha...you got me," he replied, smiling through gritted teeth as he nudged them towards the door. Now...get outta here. Go do something fun."   
The time seemed to drag on forever after that. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the bar, trying to resist the urge to pour himself a drink. He took a moment to slip into his office, grabbing an envelope to put the money inside, deciding he'd prefer to not pull out his wallet in front of these guys. When he returned to the lounge, he was met by three men in dark coats, who obviously hadn't paid attention to the "closed" sign on the door.   
"Uh...what...what can I get you guys?"   
"Our money."   
"R-right."   
Elliott tossed the envelope towards the man who had spoken, who passed it to one of the other men to be counted. He moved to lean against the bar, feigning nonchalance, but he kept his eyes on the one with the money, counting every note and coin in his own head to try and give himself some comfort that it was enough. 

“Yup, that’s it,” the counter said, after an unbearably long time. “He’s got the five.”  
The trickster let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and felt a small feeling of hope; until the one who seemed to be in charge of the operation smirked in his direction, and that sense of hope was snuffed out, like a tiny flame that had been deprived of oxygen.   
“I thought it had gone up to six.”  
The trickster swallowed thickly.   
“You said five on the phone. Five thousand. You got it. Now...get out.”   
"Don't you think we deserve a little extra for coming all the way here?"  
"Well...it's a nice evening. Isn't the fresh air enough?"  
The man watched Elliott with great interest. His words were full of confidence but his body language oozed nervous energy; slumped shoulders and wringing hands...with a very nice ring slotted on one finger.   
“You married?”   
The question caught Elliott off guard at first. What kind of question was that? This guy had just waltzed into his bar, took his money and now was trying to make a move on him? Seriously?   
“Not married,” he replied matter-of-factly, holding up his hand to flash the cluster of diamonds on his finger. “Engaged though.”   
“Hmm...Looks expensive that,” the man pointed out, and it was only now Elliott realised he had completely misread the situation when he nodded towards one of the other thugs behind him. “Take it.”   
“W-wait! Guys, come on we...we can work something out here!” the trickster began to plead, but was cut off by two swift blows to the side of his face, sending him stumbling back towards the bar.   
His arm was grabbed and held behind his back, as he was pinned down against the counter. Elliott clenched his fist shut, in his dazed state, trying to squirm against the man who was attempting to force his hand open to get access to his ring. He tugged hard on his fingers, which made him cry out in pain as he wiggled around some more. Something inside him snapped then; he was sick of this. Sick of feeling this thug’s weight on him, sick of sneaking around and lying, sick of being pushed around by life and everyone around him. He was sick of it all. So, he snapped.   
“Get the fuck off me!” he yelled, bringing his leg up to send a hard kick against his attacker's kneecap, sending him stumbling back slightly.   
Before he could even think about it, his fingers had curled around the knife that had been left on the bartop, which he stabbed with blindly, managing to connect with the flesh of his assailant’s upper thigh. The man roared out in pain, giving the trickster the opportunity to slip out from under him. It wasn’t long before the other two men were on his case, trying to restrain him and pry the knife from his hands. However, everything came to a halt when two gunshots were fired nearby, the bullets connecting with the wooden floor near the two debt collectors feet, leaving indentations in their wake. 

“Can’t you tell when you’ve outstayed your welcome, mates?” Ramya called out from the entrance to her shop. “Y’know what they say about us Legends, don’t ya? Behind the glitter and gold, we’re all batshit. So, I’d recommend you turn your asses around, get out that door and don’t look back unless you want to lose a couple of toes. I won’t miss my shots next time.”   
The group of men grumbled something to each other, before taking their money and heading for the exit, the one who had been stabbed being escorted away. Elliott couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about it. He was just happy to see the back of them.   
“Who are those clowns? My new roommates?” Ramya asked, in her typical joking fashion which Elliott really wasn’t in the mood for right now.   
He made his way to the other side of the bar, collecting some ice in an old rag which he pressed to the sore area under his eye, with a wince.   
The modder pulled up a stool and rested her elbows on the counter, watching him.   
“Do I need to worry about those fools, Witt?”  
Elliott sighed heavily, not even bothering to try and formulate some bullshit answer in his head.  
“I don’t know anymore.”  
“Ya alright?”  
The trickster nodded, though there wasn’t much energy behind it.   
“Mate...if you ever wanna talk about anything...I’m shit at giving advice but I’ve been through my fair share of hardship. I get it.”  
“I’m fine,” Elliott sighed again, setting his makeshift coolpack down. “Thanks for having my back though. Now...how do I look?”  
Ramya leaned over the bar to get a closer look at his face.   
“Like you’re gonna have a real shiner,” she said, with a small chuckle. “Go on. Go home. Get lover boy to kiss it better. I’ll lock up here.”   
Elliott accepted her offer with a nod, collected his stuff and made his way out of the bar and onto the street to begin the short walk home. He decided to take his time. There was no rush. He highly doubted he’d be getting any kisses tonight. 

* * *

Things had felt off, for the last couple of weeks. Octavio couldn’t quite put his finger on it, as he stared down at the icy soda in front of him. Well, he had a suspicion of what might be going on but he didn’t want to think about it too hard. Thinking made it feel more real, and if his suspicions were true he didn’t think he’d be able to bear it. He’d tried to make some extra effort with Elliott, but no matter what he did the trickster didn’t seem to want to be around him.   
“Alright, come on now. What’s with ya?”   
He glanced up, meeting Ajay’s eyes that had been trained on him the last few minutes, like she was trying to read him for the information he hadn't given her yet.   
“What?”   
“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”   
“Nothing.”   
The medic curled her fingers around her mug of tea.   
“I know something’s up, Silva. You come by my place this late and you’re not broken up, no stupid ideas are coming out of your mouth...something’s not right.”   
“Can’t I just...swing by to see my favourite amiga without a reason?”  
“It’s you, so...no.”  
Octavio sighed heavily, his eyes casting back down to his drink, watching the carbonated bubbles rise to the top before bursting, while he tried to gather his thoughts.   
“I...think Elliott, erm...I think he might be having doubts...about us.”  
Ajay took a long sip of her tea, her brows furrowing together.   
“That’s...a big statement to make, O. What’s makin’ ya think that way?”   
“He’s just...different,” he tried to explain. “Quieter. He’s not home as much. He works late. Sometimes he doesn’t come home at all, and says he slept at the bar, upstairs. I feel like we barely even talk. And we haven’t...done _anything_ , in ages. What's the point of being engaged if it's gonna suck this hard?”   
“Maybe he’s just...got somethin’ on his mind,” Ajay suggested. “You know what Elliott’s like. Minute he’s got something on his shoulders, he closes off from everyone.”  
“But we're supposed to tell each other everything! This...is different,” the runner replied, shaking his head. “I know him, Che. I know there’s something going on. What if he...just said yes to my proposal because he felt like he had to? And now he’s...getting cold feet.”  
“I doubt that,” she replied. “He wouldn’t have had his own ring for ya, if he didn’t wanna get married. Have you tried talking to him about it?”  
“Not really. Kind of,” he sighed, drumming his fingers on the side of his glass. “I...don’t know if I want to know the truth or not. I mean...where is he when he's not home? At the bar. And…fucking Ramya is there all the time now. You don't think they're…".   
“Them two? Not a chance. But...Ya need to talk to him, O,” the medic said softy, reaching across the table to pat his arm reassuringly. “You’ll drive yourself crazy if ya don’t.”  
“Okay,” the runner nodded, somewhat solemnly. “I’ll try. If I get the chance…but for tonight, I'm mad. Can I crash here?"   
"Fine," Ajay said, draining the remainder of her tea. "But keep them damn legs off my couch." 

* * *

Elliott took his time walking home. His face was beginning to ache terribly and he didn't want Octavio to see him like this. He felt so conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to continue his ruse and hopefully find a way to pay his debts or at least catch up on his payments again, so he'd be able to pay them without having to scrape by and without anyone else finding out. On the other, he was tired of having to lie and sneak around. He'd been treating Octavio awfully and he wanted to apologise. He wanted to come clean about everything and pay back the money he'd taken and beg for forgiveness. He just hoped the speedster would understand his reasons for doing what he did, even if he didn't quite understand them himself. Octavio deserved so much better. Elliott stepped into their apartment as quietly as he could and looked around the living space for any sign of his partner.   
"Tav?" he called out, as he walked into the living room.   
Usually, the runner would be sprawled out on the couch, playing some video game or surfing the internet on his phone, but there was no sign of him. He made his way to the hall bathroom and tapped on the door, listening for any sign of life on the other side.   
"Baby?"   
Nothing.   
_He's left you, moron. What reason have you given him to stay?_  
The trickster began to chew on his lower lip as he crossed the apartment towards their bedroom. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the note that was crookedly taped to the door, which he hastily snatched and began to read; 

_I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but you're being a real jerk. Don't expect me home tonight. I'm staying at Ajay's. **Don't** come over. _

Elliott felt somewhat relieved after reading Octavio's message. The fact that he hadn't just walked out without a trace brought him some comfort. However, he did feel terrible that he had been treating his partner so poorly that he didn't want to stay in his own home. The reality of his situation crashed down on top of him suddenly. He brought his trembling hands to brush away the tears that had escaped his eyes and rolled onto his cheeks. Elliott dragged himself through the bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom. He wasn't the prettiest sight when he looked in the mirror; the highpoint of his cheekbone and under his eye was looking darker than usual, and he had a split lip to go with it. He felt so angry at the person looking back at him, he wanted to punch them and make them look worse. Elliott's hands clamped around the edge of the sink, trying to stop the shaking somehow. His eyes drifted towards the cut-throat razor blade that sat alongside the rest of his shaving materials. He shook his head, causing his curls to fall freely in front of his face, as if trying to physically shake the temptation from his mind. Elliott turned the faucet on and quickly washed his face, grabbing a towel to wipe away the cocktail of water and tears. Elliott made his way back into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the unmade bed. He took out his phone, his thumb hovering over Octavio's number before taking a deep breath and pressing dial. He hadn't expected the runner to answer and he was correct in doing so, the call going straight to voicemail.  
"Hey, babe. It's me. I, uh...I'm sorry about earlier. I was such a fucking dick to you, Tav. You're right. I am a real jerk. I'm so, so sorry. I've been so awful to you but...if you wanna come home, I'll...be here. I love you so much. I'm sorry, and I just…", he trailed off with a sigh, unsure of what he even wanted to say anymore. "Goodnight, sweetheart."   
The trickster lay back on the bed, not bothering to get undressed or pull the blankets up. He drew Octavio's pillow close to his chest, tucking it under his chin so he could inhale his partner's scent. He lay there for some time, keeping an eye on his phone in case Octavio called back. Though, he wasn't able to fight the call of slumber for long, his tired, itchy eyes fluttering closed to the respite of sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliott comes clean about his struggles. Octavio has a proposition for him, and when an old friend arrives back on the scene Elliott spots an opportunity to get back on his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the previous ones.

It was late into the afternoon when Elliott woke up the next day. He instinctively rolled onto his side and used his hand to feel along the other side of the bed, finding it empty. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, remembering the events of the previous day. He touched along the side of his face, letting out a hiss of discomfort when he pawed at the area around his eye. It felt like a great effort to haul himself out of bed, but it was one he braved anyway, deciding that lying there anymore would just make him feel more useless than he already did. It was only then, he noticed the heavy blanket laid over him. The trickster rubbed along the fabric with his fingers; it was a light grey with small yellow and darker grey flecks running through it. He doesn't remember ever seeing this blanket before, so found its sudden appearance a little strange, but he wasn't really in the mindset to question it too hard right now. He wrapped it around his shoulders regardless and made his way into the living room. His stomach fluttered when he saw Octavio sitting on the couch with his back to him, muttering to himself in Spanish while he typed on his laptop; some of the words Elliott recognised to be swears.   
"Um...good morning. Or...afternoon, I guess."   
“Morning,” the runner responded, without turning to face him.   
“Did you, uh...sleep okay at Ajay’s?”  
“Yep.”  
The trickster fidgeted awkwardly with the blanket that was still draped over his shoulders.   
“Do you know where we got this blanket from?” he asked, hoping it would get his partner to turn and look at him. “I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”  
“Because it’s new, genius,” Octavio said, still refusing to turn his head. “It’s a weighted blanket. I ordered it a little while ago. I had one as a kid and thought maybe it’d help you sleep better. Maybe then you wouldn’t be such a mega ass.”  
“So...you tucked me in?”  
He didn’t receive a reply to that question. 

Elliott made his way over to the kitchen and began the process of making some coffee, thinking it might be a good way to warm the speedster up before he tried to talk to him further. He was only away for a few moments, until he heard some more colourful language from his partner as he yelled out.  
“Elliott?! Did you not pay our fucking internet bill? I thought I gave you my half. I’m trying to upload my videos and I can’t do shit!”  
The trickster froze.  
_Shit._  
“Uhh...I don’t know, babe,” he began, stepping around the island counter and pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “I...guess, I...forgot.”   
Elliott hadn’t expected the loud, frustrated sigh that came from his lover to hit him so hard. He had not wanted to start this conversation by being in floods of tears, but his emotions got the better of him and the waterworks had begun to flow so unexpectedly that he didn’t have time to try and push back against them; he felt so exhausted. Octavio turned to face him for the first time that morning, upon hearing a series of desperate sniffles coming from behind him.   
“Oh, don’t start crying about it. It’s not…,” he trailed off, taking a good look at his partner, his pierced brow furrowing in concern and confusion. “Elliott...what happened to your face?”   
The trickster took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself but to little avail. His brain felt like it was going a mile a minute, and he wasn’t sure if his mouth was going to be able to keep up.   
“I...th-think I’m gonna need you to take care of the internet bill this month. I n-need you to take care of...of everything. I...I...I n-need you to take care of m-me.”   
Octavio didn’t know what to say. He was still as confused as ever as he rose from his seat and took a few steps towards his fiancé. He was mad and he was upset with the trickster, but despite it all, he couldn’t stand by and do nothing while his partner was in some kind of obvious distress. Octavio wrapped his arms around him, letting the trickster slump against him and bury his face in his shoulder. He held him while he cried; he wasn’t really sure what else he could do. 

It was some time later when the pair settled themselves on the couch, a mug of coffee in both their hands. Elliott wiped his nose on his sleeve, having finally calmed down enough to form a coherent sentence. Octavio was uncharacteristically quiet after he had firmly told the trickster to "tell everything, right now". He sat and listened to what his partner had to say, absentmindedly picking at the skin on his thumb while he did so.  
“I’m in...a lot of trouble,” Elliott began, keeping his eyes on the steam rising from his mug. “Debt. I’m in debt. To...a couple of different places and people. I paid some of it off yesterday but...well the guys were assholes even though I had the money and...that explains my...face.”  
“They beat you up?”  
“A little,” the trickster replied, with a nod. “I...might have kind of...stabbed one of them though.”  
“Shit...did you kill him?”  
“N-no. I don't th-think so.”  
“Damn,” Octavio said, taking a sip of his coffee. “That’s a shame.”  
Elliott chuckled quietly at the remark.   
“Tav!”  
“What? If he’s gonna be an asshole then he probably deserves it!”   
“Anyways,” Elliott said, shaking his head. “I...kinda blew all my savings on the party boat. I didn’t mean to, it just...sort of happened. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I...just wanted to look like the guy who had it all. I mean, being asked to host the holiday event is such an honour, I just...wanted it to be a good time. I had a shitty year...with everything. Not that...it’s an excuse I just...I don’t know.”  
“That place was so awesome though.”  
“You’re...not meant to encourage me! You probably won't when...well, let me just keep going” Elliott said, before continuing his story. “When mom told me about her condition I just wanted to keep the good things going. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I couldn’t pay it back. I was able at the start, but then...the holiday season ended and...sponsors started drying up for me and...the bar kinda took a business hit when we were doing that stuff for Loba and Hammond. I mean...no one wants to stop by and relax and have a drink in a place that’s doubling as some sort of...secret meeting centre and fucking hospital. Everything just started to snowball and...now it’s just one big mess.”   
“Okay,” Octavio nodded slowly. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”  
“I’m not...done,” Elliott admitted, sounding particularly ashamed. “I...stole. From you.”  
The speedster blinked a few times, not quite understanding what his partner was trying to say.   
“What do you mean, you stole?”  
“I stole...money from your account. When you gave me your card. I didn’t have enough to pay back some of what I owed so I took it from you,” Elliott explained, keeping his eyes fixed on his coffee. “And...that’s not the only th-thing. I...started uh... _hurting_ my-myself again. I only did it a couple of times but...I keep getting thoughts about it...when I feel r-really under pressure. Where I...I want to." 

Octavio remained silent for a few moments afterwards, trying to process everything he’d just been told. The trickster drank the remainder of his coffee before turning to look at his partner, finally managing to look him in the eye.   
“So...say something.”  
“I don’t know what to say, Elliott,” the runner said, shrugging his shoulders. “This... _is_ a big mess.”  
“Y-yeah. I know. Are...you mad?”  
“Duh,” Octavio replied, the response making Elliott’s chest shift uncomfortably, though he appreciated his honesty. “Of course, I am. You treated me like shit and lied to me for weeks.”   
“I get it. I would be too.”  
"You make me feel like you don't trust me."   
"I do trust you, Tav! I just...thought I was doing the right thing and then...I was doing all the shitty things instead."   
“Yeah, you were. But we'll talk more about that later. I still love your stupid ass so...First thing's first,” the speedster began, placing his mug to the side and turning in his seat to face his lover more directly. “Are you...okay? How bad have you been…”.  
“I’m okay,” Elliott assured him. “The...last time was a couple of weeks ago. It’s just...the thoughts about it…I'm...really trying to ignore them but...it's hard."  
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Octavio sighed. “I...you’ve been so....I was starting to think you didn’t wanna be with me anymore. If you told me what was going on, I could’ve helped. I would have helped you, amor. I would have.”  
“That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything!” the trickster told him, earnestly. “I knew you’d wanna get involved. It’s not like Psamathe around here, babe. People don’t just try and ruin your reputation when you cross them. Here, they...they hurt people. Sometimes worse. I...didn’t want you getting all tied up with that.”   
“I don’t need you to protect me, Elliott,” the runner said, firmly. “I can take care of myself. And you, if you would have given me the chance.”  
“I’m sorry,” Elliott replied, reaching over to give his partner’s hand a light squeeze. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for lying and...being horrible to you and...I’ll pay you back. I swear. Every credit.”   
“I don’t care about the money, amor,” Octavio told him, squeezing his hand in return. “I just want...I just want you to be okay. Don’t keep shit like this from me anymore. We’re a team, remember?”   
“This whole time, I just...felt like I was drowning,” the trickster admitted, quietly. “I just didn’t wanna put that on you too.”  
“I’m not gonna let you drown, mi amor.”  
The speedster leaned over to close the distance between them, capturing his lover’s lips, in a sweet kiss. He paused when Elliott winced and pulled away, cringing at himself when he remembered his split lip.  
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, opting to place a lighter kiss on the corner of the trickster’s mouth instead.   
“I don’t deserve you,” Elliott whispered, pulling the younger Legend as close as he possibly could. "Why do you have to be so good to me? Why can't you just...yell at me, and...treat me like I deserve?"   
"Because I don't think yelling gets people to do what you want," Octavio said quietly, following it with a small laugh. "Ask Ajay. Or...my father."   
Elliott closed his eyes, feeling slightly more at ease now, as he tried to focus on nothing else but the warmth of his fiancé in his arms.  
"What...do you want me to do?"   
"Stay safe," the speedster whispered, reaching to intertwine their fingers. "Stay with me. Eres mi mundo." 

* * *

Elliott awoke at the sound of the apartment door being opened, taking a moment to stretch himself out and rub the tiredness from his eyes. After their talk, Octavio had decided to go for a run, stating he needed some time to clear his head. Elliott had taken the opportunity to take a nap, perfectly content to rest under the blanket Octavio had gifted him. The runner had returned home, with what looked and smelled like a bag with dinner inside.   
“You remember this place?” he asked, while he handed him a paper parcel which contained some fries and a burger. “I got us food from here before I asked you on our first real date.”  
“Oh, you mean after _you_ were the asshole?” the trickster replied, chuckling at the memory. “Is this gonna be our make up food or something?”  
“Hey, at least I got your order right this time,” Octavio replied, somewhat bashfully, taking a large bite from his burger.   
The couple ate in silence for a few moments. Elliott was just realising how hungry he actually was, and had cleared off most of his meal in record time. The speedster however, seemed preoccupied, fidgeting with one of his fries before speaking up.   
“I was doing some thinking while I was out.”  
“Uh oh. That sounds dangerous,” the trickster quipped, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “What’s on your mind?”  
“I wanna pay off your debt.”  
Elliott shook his head.  
“No. I already told you you’re not getting involved. I’ll figure it out.”  
"Hey, you said you're sorry. Prove it by letting me help you out so I don't have to worry about you anymore."  
"I already took money from you! I don't wanna do it again...".  
“Ugh, you are so stubborn!” the speedster huffed, dropping his fry which was now a mushy, potato mess. “I’m just trying to help you out.”  
“I know, babe. And I appreciate it, really but...it’s too much money. I’m not your sugar baby.”  
“Ayyy, but if you were that’d make for some sweet roleplays, no?” Octavio chortled, wiggling his eyebrows until he received a thrown cushion to the face, causing him to laugh more. “Alright, fine. How about...I’ll completely take care of our bills and stuff and whatever immediate debt you have to pay. It’ll give you some time to get back on your feet, and once you’ve got your own money together again, you can take care of it yourself. I’ll help you out more if you need it, or less once you’ve figured things out. You know this is a good idea, amor. Just...let me take some stress off you. Please. I’m...not gonna let you make me feel useless. I wanna help.”   
"Are you sure your parents being CEOs didn't rub off on you at all?" the trickster asked. "This sounds like some...business deal speech, if I've ever heard one."   
Octavio sighed heavily.   
"I'm not like them. I'm actually trying to do something good with my money, mi amor."   
Elliott didn’t answer for some time, but appeared to be thinking the proposition over.   
“Okay...but, I get to pay you back. When I can.”  
“Nah.”  
“Yes.”  
“We’ll work that part out later,” the speedster said, waving his hand dismissively in the hopes his lover would just forget about it. “So...deal?”  
“Okay, deal. Th-thanks, babe. You’re...really saving my ass here.”  
Octavio allowed himself to be pulled into a tight hug, his cheeks being peppered with kisses.   
“Not a problem, mi amor,” he replied, his tone teasing. “I mean, I could never risk anything happening to your ass. What would I do in my freetime? I would be so bored.”

* * *

It was a few weeks later when the early morning sun crept through the crack in the curtains, disturbing Elliott’s slumber. He pushed his weighted blanket and comforter to the side, taking a moment to sit on the edge of the bed. It was more of a struggle to get up these days, now that he was on a short leave from the games. It wasn’t something he wanted, but Octavio had suggested he take some time to rest and once he got Ajay on his side claiming it might do his mental health some good, there was little he could do or say to convince them this was a bad idea. Usually, having nothing to keep him busy had the opposite effect, but this time around he found the time off helping a little. He’s taken the opportunity to set out a plan of how he might start paying back what he owed; it wasn’t perfect, but it was something. Now that Octavio had taken some of the burden off his shoulders, intrusive thoughts were plaguing him less; he felt like he had an alternative route out of this mess now. Still, he just wanted to go back to how things were a few months ago, but Ajay had told him these things take time and it wasn’t something he could rush. He ran a hand over his face as he stood, making a mental note that shaving should definitely be moved higher on his list of priorities for the day. He paused when he got to the bedroom door, hearing voices coming from the living space. Elliott opened the door just enough to peek out, seeing Octavio and Ajay sitting at the breakfast bar with the runner’s laptop opened in front of them.   
“Okay, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can you _slow down_ , amiga? Show me again.”  
“Alright,” the medic replied, pointing her index finger towards the screen. “So, you wanna pay your internet bill. You’re already signed in, so you’re gonna click on the invoice for this month and click pay. Or, you can change it so it’ll just come out of your account automatically every month. Might be better for ya.”   
“Ugh, this is all so complicated,” Octavio complained, resting his chin on his hand and pouting.  
“It’s not,” Ajay giggled, playfully flicking the side of his head. “Ya’ll get it. Don’t worry.”  
The scene made the trickster’s heart wrench, but there was part of him that found watching his partner try absolutely adorable. He pushed the door open, deciding to make his presence known before he was caught eavesdropping.   
“Good morning, kids.”  
“Mornin’, Elliott,” Ajay greeted him, with a small wave before returning to her coffee. “Sleep well?”   
"I should be asking you two that question, no?" he replied, moving to perch himself on the counter top. "You both have scrims today, right?"   
"Uh huh," the medic said, drinking the last of her beverage. "We need to get a move on."   
Octavio groaned, wolfing down the rest of his cereal.   
"Scrims blows. I want a real match."   
He dumped his bowl in the sink, giving Elliott the opportunity to grab him and smoother his cheeks with kisses, making him giggle.   
"Get a room you two," Ajay quipped, pulling her gear bag into her shoulder. "Don't make me chuck up my breakfast."   
"Come on, Che," the speedster began, his tone teasing. "I gotta give him a break sometimes. If I don't he might fall apart."   
The medic shot Elliott a knowing look, to which he merely shook his head in reply.   
"Mmm...whatever you say, Silva. Now, let's go before the ship leaves without us." 

There wasn’t really much for him to do, now that Octavio and Ajay had left. He decided to put a little effort into his outfit and appearance, despite planning to spend the afternoon on the couch, watching the scrims livestream. He opted for something fashionable yet practical, going with some fitted track pants and a soft hoodie, after he had shaved and he felt so much better for it. Maybe he could prepare a nice dinner for himself and Octavio tonight; he definitely deserved it. He was beginning to think of some possible meal ideas, when his phone buzzed with a text. 

_**John:** Hey, buddy. You free today? Swing by the office. I wanna run something by you._

It was a bit of a trek to the other side of the city, where John’s office and warehouse were located. His business was fairly new on the scene and incredibly modest, but he was definitely one of the fairer and nicer suppliers that Elliott had worked with and was glad to call one of his friends. Though, despite their friendship the trickster always made sure he was one of the first people to be paid; he’d rather take his chances with the hired mercenaries than let a guy with a small business and young family go hungry. However, to John’s credit, he always managed to score the best booze for a good price. It was one of the many things Elliott liked about him. 

He knocked on the glass pane door, when he arrived at the office and was immediately invited inside. The place was the epitome of organised chaos; various crates and promotional material for several brands of alcohol were stacked wherever they would fit, his own Witt Whiskey nestled among them. John stood in the middle of it all, looking like he had just finished up an important phone call, before turning to the trickster, grinning widely.   
“There he is!”  
“Here I am,” Elliott chuckled, shoving his hands into his pocket. “So, what’s up?”  
“Oh, yeah. Here. Sit, sit,” his friend said, clearing a stack of papers off a nearby seat, before flopping into his own desk chair. “I have news!”  
The trickster nodded, curious; when it came to the nightlife scene in Solace City, “news” could mean literally anything.   
“Alright,” John began, purposely drumming his fingers on the desk in front of him. “So, I’m trying to get back in the game, right? The kid is growing up a little, the wife’s doing great, and it seems like the right time. I’m telling you, Witt, I have some physic powers or something because literally the day I land my ass back in here, I get a call from a buddy of mine. He moved out to Psamathe a little while ago, and has been looking for work out there. He finally landed a gig at this new and upcoming nightclub so he calls me up, and let me know this place is gonna run with the whole...signature cocktail bullshit. But, that’s good for me because they’re gonna need house vodkas, gins, _whiskeys_ …”.  
The cogs in Elliott’s brain were beginning to turn as he listened. This sounded like a business opportunity he needed to get in on.   
“Hey, uh...I don’t know if you’ve already picked out your recommendations, but...can I put my-.”  
The other male held up a hand stopping him.   
“Say no more, my friend. You were the first person I thought of! I wasn’t gonna recommend anyone else, and leave one of my best buds out on his ass. Gimme some credit.”  
The trickster let out a long exhale.   
“Wow...thanks, man. That's...awesome. Seriously...thank you."  
“Hey, this is a good opportunity for us both. If things go well, it’ll be you, me, Witt Whiskey and a nice couple of cheques,” John told him, moving to pour them both a glass from his makeshift wetbar. “I feel like celebrating.”  
He held out a glass to Elliott, which he enthusiastically took and clinked with his, before settling back and taking a long sip. John began to ramble on about other things that might be coming his way down the line. Elliott nodded along as he listened, enjoying his drink. For the first time, in the longest while, he felt like he had room to breathe. 

* * *

“Elliott, come on! Nat just texted and said everyone is there already!”  
The trickster looked towards his partner, who was jogging a few paces ahead of him, while he hauled one of the bags he was carrying onto his shoulder.   
“I’m coming, babe. But jeez, slow down. It’s a million degrees out here.”  
Perhaps that was an exaggeration on Elliott’s half, but it sure felt like it. As soon as Makoa caught wind that today’s weather was going to be particularly great, he’d sent the word out to all of the Legends, who would be willing to attend, to meet up at a nearby swimming hole for a BBQ. Elliott could smell the aroma of delicious savory and sweet cooking all the way down the trail and it was making his mouth water. Octavio on the other hand was just keen to get into the water. As soon as they arrived at the meet-up spot, he was tearing his shirt off and cannonballing in before anyone even had a chance to greet him.   
“Woohoo! This feels incredible!”   
“Hey, watch the legs robo-twink,” Ramya scolded him, sending a series of splashes in his direction. “You’re gonna take someone’s bloody eye out with them things if you keep kicking around like that!”  
“Not my fault you’re too slow to get out of the way, amiga!” Octavio called back jovially, before dipping back under the water.   
Elliott passed on the swimming for now, deciding to get to work on some refreshing drinks for everyone and assist Makoa with the cooking. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to join in on the fun, but despite the last few weeks being better for him in the mental health department, the thought of taking his shirt off in front of anyone that wasn’t Octavio still made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. Ajay and Natalie had called out to him on several occasions, trying to coax him over, but he fended them off with jokes about ruining his hair and excuses about keeping Pathfinder company, who also wasn’t too enthusiastic about going in the water. 

The group spent the day relaxing, sharing stories and ideas for games they could play while they enjoyed the food and drink on offer. The scorching afternoon sun eventually settled into a much more tolerable and colourful evening sky. Everyone was beginning to pack up their stuff and say their goodbyes, so Elliott took the opportunity to sit on the edge of the swimming hole and dip his toes in. Part of him felt like he’d let himself miss out on most of the fun by not joining the others in the water. It felt like the side of his brain that wanted to go back to enjoying all of the things he would have enjoyed a few months ago, was being tackled and pulled backwards by the side of his brain that wanted to lock itself away and never enjoy anything ever again. He sighed to himself as he looked down at the ripples he was creating; it felt like every day was a battle with his own mind, but at least he had a little more motivation and energy to try and fight against it now. 

It wasn’t long until Octavio came to join him. He plopped himself down on the ground, letting out a series of burps in the process.  
“Man, Makoa sure knows how to cook BBQ,” he said. “I don’t think I wanna eat any other food ever again.”  
“Not even my pork chops?” Elliott asked playfully, looking his partner over. “Did you eat everything that was left?”  
“Hey, Gibby said he didn’t want all that food going to waste. And besides, I didn’t eat _everything_. I saved you a hotdog.”   
The pair sat in a comfortable silence while the trickster ate the food that was offered to him. He looked up at the sky over their heads that was resting somewhere between orange and purple, and back to the group behind them that was beginning to leave.   
“Hey, um…”, Elliott began, somewhat sheepishly. “I know you’re already dried off and stuff but...will you swim with me for a bit?"  
“Of course, I will!” Octavio laughed, already jumping to his feet. “I thought you’d never ask.”   
The pair were stripped down to their shorts in a matter of moments, threading through the water hand in hand.   
“This is nice,” Octavio commented, absentmindedly poking at the water’s surface.   
“Yeah, it is,” the trickster replied, slowing down to a stop, turning to face his partner more directly. "Babe...I am so sorry. For everything."   
"I know, amor. You tell me every day. I forgive you, just...no more secrets."   
"You are too good to me," the trickster sighed, reaching out to rub his hands along the younger Legend's upper arms.   
Octavio cupped his face tenderly.   
"Amor…", he began, though there was a playfulness to his tone. "Your knees crack when you go down on me. If I can get passed that, I can get over anything."   
"Eh, _rude_ ," Elliott replied, feigning offense as he splashed some water in the speedster's direction causing him to laugh. "And I call no splash-backsies!"   
Octavio flashed him a toothy grin, before swinging his hands through the water, sending a small, yet powerful, wave in the trickster's direction. Elliott shook his now soaked curls out of his face, a pout forming on his plush lips.   
"Hey! I called no splash-backsies!"   
"Oh, yeah?! Call this!" 

Octavio lunged towards him, sending him toppling backwards as they both plunged under the water. The attack took Elliott by surprise and he flailed his arms around, trying to find his balance through the shock, until both of his wrists were firmly grasped and pulled, as Octavio dragged him the short distance to the surface. The trickster coughed and spluttered as he eyed his fiancé, who just giggled mischievously.   
"Ayy, don't give me that look mi amor! I'm just tryna add some excitement to your life."   
"As if my life isn't exciting enough already," Elliott snorted in response, combing his sodden hair away from his face with his fingers.   
"You can say that again," the runner said, draping his arms over his shoulders. "Especially now you've got this big Psamathe deal. I wonder who's opening the place."   
"I don't know," Elliott mused, returning the embrace. "Whoever they are, they sign everything off with "The Management Team," and keep addressing me as "Mr Witt" in emails and telling me how much they love working with me, already. It's kinda weird, but a job is a job, right?"   
"I doubt they love you half as much as I do, _Mr Witt_ ," Octavio said, giving his shoulders an appreciative squeeze.   
"I love you more," Elliott hummed, taking the runner's hand in his own and placing a gentle kiss to the ring on his finger. " _Future_ Mr Witt."  
Octavio offered him a smile that made his heart flutter, before moving closer allowing the trickster to rest his chin on top of his head. Elliott exhaled deeply, taking in the moment of tranquility he was getting to share with the love of his life. 

He hadn't drowned yet, and with Octavio by his side he had faith that he might just be able to keep his head above water; and if he were to slip under again, he knew the runner would always be there to pull him back to the surface. 


End file.
